He stood there another minute, waiting for anything else to follow.
Nothing did.
Out of caution, he scanned the woods, the ridge beyond, the stretch of sky now empty and gray.
These weren’t some kids messing around. Not up here. Not over private land with no clear access road and a closed gate. It wasn’t someone curious who’d stumbled onto the wrong place.
That drone was deliberate.
Someone was spying on them.
He slipped the gun back into its holster and forced his breathing to slow. Reacting poorly wouldn’t help anyone. Panic led to mistakes. He needed to think, not spiral.
A drone meant someone was watching without stepping foot on the property. Someone was gathering information instead of making noise.
The question was: Who?
He turned slowly, cataloging what could have been visible from above.
The proximity of buildings. The drive.
He pictured it through unfamiliar eyes and felt a fresh surge of anger.
Right now, there was nothing to tip someone off. But if one of their guests had been outside, that drone could confirm who was here.
That wasn’t okay. In fact, it was a safety hazard.
Caleb restarted the mower and headed back toward the barn, his pace now measured and his mind already shifting into containment mode.
He’d need to tell Naomi. Max too.
They’d adjust patrols. Do more ground checks.
Then Millie’s image filled his mind.
He hoped she hadn’t seen the drone.
She’d only just started to settle, and he didn’t want to hand her another reason to doubt the ground beneath her feet.
Not unless he had to.
She might think Garrick was behind it, though they had no good reason to think that. Still, it sounded like the man was dangerous—and determined. From the way Millie described him, Garrick thought of Millie as being his, and he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.
Caleb reached the barn and paused, looking back once more at the sky.
He would give this place his every last ounce of strength, energy, and money.
He wouldn’t give up—no matter how tempting it might feel at times.
Millie turned off the lamp and let the room settle into shadow.
The rest of the evening had been uneventful.
Caleb’s mom hadn’t come to help with dinner, so they’d eaten some baked chicken and potatoes. The conversation had been light, and everyone had turned in early for the night.
Millie had taken Biscuit out one last time, walked him far enough from the house that the night sounds felt bigger than she was ready for. He’d sniffed the ground, tail wagging once, then did what he needed to do and looked up at her like everything was fine. Like this was normal.
She’d fed him, showered, let the hot water ease the stiffness from her shoulders. Now she sat propped against the headboard, quilt pulled up to her waist, staring out the window at the dark beyond the glass.
